


I Can See The Stars

by uchiism



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23208742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchiism/pseuds/uchiism
Summary: When trapped in a predicament that involves not only being kidnapped by grounders but also a betrayal, Bellamy is faced with a decision as one of his closest friends slips from his grasp.
Kudos: 2





	I Can See The Stars

The day of Clarke’s death was indescribable. There’s that idea that when traumatic situations happen that life moves in slow motion; seconds pass as minutes and the entire world goes silent as the scene unfolds before you; all innate truths. 

Bellamy Blake watched on, helpless, as a man dressed in grounder garb raised his iron sword in a rage. The glint of the metal against the sun’s rays made him look almost heroic. Like a scene from one of the old comic books they scrounged from the depths of the ark. Bellamy stumbled upon some once in the storage area reserved for Earth relics that he was only ever allowed to see in order to dust during his time as a janitor. If it weren’t for the fact that the grounder brought his sword down in a fluid motion, cutting through cloth and leather, piercing the vulnerable skin that lay beneath, Bellamy might have admired his technique. 

Bellamy froze, his limbs stopped moving and his eyes stayed glued on Clarke’s falling body. Rivulets of blood poured out of the wound and onto the floor as soon as she hit it. The grounder stood above her, his once beautiful sword now tarnished with the stain of another’s life. The grin that he bore twisted Bellamy’s stomach and through his shock, he could feel anger surge through his pulsing veins. Blinking, he let his sights fall on Clarke’s body again, as if he didn’t see it right the first time, then back to the man. Bellamy clenched his jaw and charged forward, time speeding up once more with every step he took. His hands clenched the cool metal of his gun as he raised it and blasted off not one, not two, but three shots into the grounder’s body. Each bullet hit its mark with a sickening crunch. As soon as the last bullet left his cartridge, Bellamy holstered his weapon and knelt down beside Clarke. The blood was starting to pool around her, staining the ends of her blonde hair into a murky red. She coughed up blood and shivered, struggling to breathe against the pain. 

For a moment, Bellamy struggled with what to do. He’d only ever seen Clarke handle situations like this and never did them himself. His mind was trying to tell him to put pressure on the wound but his body wouldn’t move. He willed himself to reach up and gently push away some of the stray hairs that stuck to the sweat on her forehead. She can’t die. His thoughts raced as he tried to remember all of the first aid lessons he’d been taught through the years. With a deep breath, he focused before he shrugged off his jacket and pushed it against the wound, keeping the pressure tight enough to hopefully slow the bleeding. It was only a few moments before he could feel the sticky texture of blood soaking through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he slightly lifted up the jacket in an attempt to examine the wound, only to be greeted with more blood bubbling up to the surface as soon as he removed the pressure.

Thought after thought raced through his mind as he searched for ideas on how to help. He didn’t have medicine, or anything to stitch her up. There was always the huge probability that the pressure he was holding was the only thing between Clarke and her death. He gnawed on his lip. There was the option to radio for help, but his walkie had been lost in the shuffle and no way in hell was he going to try and move Clarke to find it.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” The frustration built up as he spit out the words, watching as her eyelids started to flutter. Clarke’s lips quivered as if she was trying to speak and Bellamy raised his free hand up, “No, don’t speak. You need your strength. You’re going to live. It’s not a question.”

The only issue that stood in the way was the concept of how he was going to save her. His eyes returned to hers as the gears worked themselves around his mind.


End file.
